


Confessions

by koalathebear



Series: Fragments Prism [3]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene set at the end of 3.07 Gerontion when Quinn is emerging from the house of Fariba Javadi after making his 'confession'.  It has bothered me that Carrie basically ignores his 'heartfelt' moment when he confides that he has become disillusioned with the CIA. I know it's Carrie and she's self-absorbed and selfish but it still bothered me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mytimeoftheyear](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mytimeoftheyear).



> **mytimeoftheyear** 's prompt was "does Carrie know about Quinn's mission in Caracas and him killing that little boy?"

Beautiful giftset by [quinn&carrie](http://quinnandcarrie.tumblr.com/post/66690239288). My God, the way he _looks_ at her.

*

_You fucking people … have you ever done anything but make things worse?_

Quinn walked out of 1426 Long Hill Road, barely noticing the dismissive looks of contempt thrown his way by Detective Calvin Johnson as he left. 

Fariba Javadi's blood was still on the floor, no one having done any more than throw a few ineffectual paper towels on top of the congealing liquid. Quinn's face was expressionless as he opened the door and walked outside into the night air, heading in the direction of his car.

Glancing across the road, he saw Carrie standing in front of her car, clearly waiting for him. Surprise and some other unidentifiable emotion flicked over his face as he stopped in his tracks momentarily before approaching her.

"How'd it go?" she asked him.

"They're standing down."

"So it went well," she said wryly.

"What do they say? Confession is good for the soul," Quinn said reflectively.

"Only - you didn't do it," Carrie pointed out, looking a little perplexed. Sometimes Carrie Mathison could be extremely literal.

"I know. But it made me feel better," he told her. "Wrong crime, right guy I guess." His voice was soft and thoughtful. Carrie looked at him with a frown on her face as he continued. "You know what else I've realised? Just how through I am with … _this_ … " he paused. "… CIA … I just do not believe it anymore."

"Believe what?" she asked, looking even more confused now.

"That anything justifies the damage we do," he told her in a moment of completely unexpected candour. 

As usual however, Carrie was preoccupied with her own matters and it was clear that she had completely skipped over Quinn's crisis of conscience and moment of introspection.

"You can't quit yet," she told him abruptly. "Javadi's over the Atlantic heading home." Quinn stared at her in faint resignation. Typical Carrie. "… and he told me something before he left." Excitement coloured her voice. " - about the Langley bomber – "

"You mean Brody," he said gently. Carrie saw the world through her own prism – her distorted love for Nicholas Brody. Very little else - if anything, really mattered to her.

"No, that's just it," Carrie said, her voice rising and her tone becoming more frantic. "It's not him! And I can prove it now … but … " she hesitated, the next words not coming easily to her. "I need your help."

"Uh … " A range of emotions flickered across Quinn's face, none of them decipherable by Carrie who stared at him with her customary intensity. He sometimes wondered how anyone could burn so bright and so hard without completely running out of energy.

"Quinn?" she demanded urgently, her eyes wide and her tone very urgent.

More expressions chased across Quinn's usually unreadable face and he exhaled slightly. "Sure Carrie." His voice was quiet and slightly husky. "Whatever you need."

Carrie looked very relieved but as Quinn walked away from her and back towards his car, her brow furrowed in faint concern as if it suddenly occurred to her that something wasn't quite right with her usually nonchalant co-worker.

Shaking her head as if to dissipate the confusion, she got into her own car and drove home swiftly, her mind racing at a million miles an hour.

*

Brushing her teeth, Carrie stared into the mirror. The exhaustion was apparent in her pale face … the events of the past few days catching up to her. Her eyes were sunken, the shadows around her eyes dark and her skin was blotchy. She exhaled slowly, not wanting to think of all the other reasons why she felt so incredibly drained. Compartmentalising was getting more and more difficult.

Staring at her hand holding the toothbrush, it bothered her that it trembled slightly so she rinsed the toothbrush and put it down. Making an effort to keep her mind blank, she rinsed her mouth, washed her face and pulled her hair back into a loose pony tail before walking to the window to draw the curtains closed.

Something made her glance out into the dimly lit street and she frowned as she stared at a car that looked faintly familiar in the darkness.

Crossing to the cupboard, she reached in and pulled out the new burner phone Quinn had given her earlier that day and still frowning, she keyed in the numbers.

"Yeah?" she heard Quinn say when he answered.

"It's Carrie."

"I know."

"Is that you lurking out there again?" she demanded, turning off the light and standing in the dark by the window, peering out at him.

"It's called surveillance," he corrected her, seeing the curtain twitch and her slender figure standing in the window.

" I'm fine. You need a rest as much as I do … just go home. You don't need to do this. "

"Carrie - you blackmailed the Iranian Deputy Intelligence Chief today. The man is royally pissed off and a psychopath. Are you so sure that there won't be any blowback?" he asked her.

"Saul thinks he wouldn't dare ..."

"Saul also didn't expect that he'd shoot his daughter-in-law point blank and kill his ex-wife with a fucking bottle in front of his infant grandson," Quinn countered tersely. "Someone should have eyes on you – at least for tonight."

There was a long silence.

"You might be right, but Quinn – this is not your problem or your responsibility."

"Go to bed Carrie," Quinn said wearily.

"I thought you said you wanted to quit – and now you're conducting your own surveillance operation?"

"I didn't mean I was quitting tonight," he told her witheringly.

"Look, don't think I don't appreciate it, but – "

She stared in shock at the phone when the click indicated that he had hung up on her. "Goddamnit," she muttered and went to her cupboard, pulling out a dressing gown and shoving her bare feet into a pair of sand shoes before stomping outside, down the footpath and across the road towards Quinn's parked car.

"Carrie what the _fuck_ are you doing?" he asked her tersely as she went and stood by the driver's door of his car. "If this was a live operation you would have blown it."

"Well it's not and you hung up on me!" she told him accusingly, glaring at him as only Carrie could.

"Do you want me to list all the times you've hung up on me?" he demanded. "Go inside, you're wearing a dressing gown. You look like an idiot."

"Oh for fuck's sake, you don't need to lurk out here like this now. It's downright creepy. At least come inside if you insist on continuing your 'mission'. There's no need for you to have to stay at a hundred yards anymore …"

"You wouldn't prefer me out here maintaining a safe distance?" he asked her mildly.

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him scornfully and watched as he shrugged and got out of the car and walked with her back to her house. "Thanks for having someone fix my door," she bit out.

"No problem. Those goons got in way too easily for my liking," he remarked as he watched her lock the door and re-set the alarm. 

"We wanted them to come in, remember?" she reminded him. "Drink?" she asked.

"Whatever you're having."

Five minutes later she was sitting up in bed, leaning against the wall and nursing a cup of green tea while Quinn stood leaning against the wall, holding a mug of tea.

Carrie dimmed the lights and closed her eyes for a moment. "Quinn – just fucking take a seat."

"There is no seat, Carrie," he retorted.

"You can sit on the bed. Your virtue is safe with me," she told him sarcastically.

He shrugged and put his mug down on the bedside table and dropped onto the bed next to her, on top of the covers and also leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"You kind of look like shit," she commented, noting that he looked exhausted. His mouth was tight, his jaw was tense and the shadows around his eyes rivalled hers.

"And you're not looking so hot yourself," he told her without opening his eyes.

"Oh, so no quick fuck then?" she jibed and he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. There was a faint curve to his mouth.

"I have no objections to casual sex or meaningless sex – don't waste my time on pointless sex though."

Carrie looked at him as if he'd grown two heads and shrugged. "Why pointless?" she asked curiously.

"Because there's no one in your universe except Nicholas Brody and I have no interest in being his stand-in," he told her.

"Ouch," she replied.

"Truth hurts."

She took a sip of her tea to avoid answering. "Question?" he asked her.

"Depends," she said, staring at him warily. "A late night interrogation doesn't sound much fun to me."

"Why do you care about him so much? What is it you see in him?" he asked her abruptly.

She was silent for a long moment, setting her tea down on the bedside table. "He's been through a lot … suffered so much … and sometimes it seems like he's the only person in the world who understands what it's like to be completely alone - and unwanted."

Quinn said nothing and they sat there in the darkness, just breathing.

"I know it probably doesn't make any sense to you," she said, her tone defensive and sullen.

"Pascal says _le cœur a ses raisons, que la raison ne connaît point_ (The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know)."

"That your way of saying I am irrational?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Maybe," he said with a faint smile. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Were you frightened when Javadi's men came to take you?" he asked her unexpectedly. The question took her by surprise and she found herself answering, despite herself.

She swallowed hard. "Honestly? I was fucking terrified … They cut my clothes … frisked me … checked inside my mouth … I felt violated. Even though I was expecting it, I freaked out and started crying like a girl."

"Understandable." Quinn's voice was tight. "Sorry I couldn't help you … sorry you were in it alone."

"But that was the play," she pointed out, looking confused.

Quinn nodded. "And a very cruel play it's been … the hospital …"

Carrie stiffened. In an expressionless voice, she told him of being strapped down by the orderlies and having her medication administered forcibly … of the nights she had woken up in the darkness to hear the screams of other patients. She told him of hitting her forehead against the mirror in the bathroom from pure frustration and panic.

"You are … unbelievable," he told her seriously.

"Saul says the same thing but I know it's not a compliment," she said with a twisted smile. 

She slid further down the bed so that her head rested on the pillow. They heard the sound of traffic passing, a dog barking … a man and a woman having a loud domestic.

"So you going to tell me what's going on with you?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?" he asked her warily.

"Before … outside the house - when you said wrong crime, right guy …"

Quinn said nothing and for a while, it seemed as though he might not answer. 

"Just some stuff the cops said … rang true – about what we do."

"And this just occurs to you today?" she demanded.

He exhaled. "The mission recently …after I took down Tin Man… I saw movement and fired. When I went out to check – it was just a kid. I killed a kid." It wasn't something he cared to talk about and the memory was like a raw wound that he carried about with him. His voice was light and deceptively calm. "They call the mission a success ... but I fucked up." His voice became hoarse.

"Quinn – it was an accident."

"Doesn't matter. We kill children – innocents, then we're no different than the bad guys we're claiming to be hunting down."

"I don't mean to be unsympathetic but you might have thought of that before you made certain career choices. There are other parts of the Agency where you don't have to go to work carrying a gun."

"Assassin, analyst, policy-maker … makes no difference in the long run. The system is morally bankrupt. You have any idea how much blood someone like Saul has on his hands?" 

"So this is your path to redemption, Quinn? Doing good deeds? Conducting unrequested surveillance on me?"

"Like that," he joked, avoiding her question. 

"How'd you end up in that part of the Agency anyway?"

"There's sharing and there's over-sharing. Now go to sleep," he told her firmly.

"So bossy," she muttered, closing her eyes. "Don't look at me when I'm sleeping, that's just weird."

"Just go to sleep."

"And you'll keep the bad guys away," she mocked him.

"Except me."

She felt herself start to drift off into sleep despite herself. "Not a bad guy …" she said sleepily. "That's what I think … for what it's worth … though they do keep locking me up for being crazy."

Quinn gave a short laugh. "Strangely enough … that means a lot."

"You're still fucking annoying though," she mumbled before she fell asleep.

After a while, Quinn closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep. Years of training meant that his weapon was ready to hand and the sleep was a light one, but it was sleep nonetheless.

*

Carrie woke up slowly and blinked at the ceiling. She turned her head. She was alone in the bed. Sliding out of bed she walked across to the window and stared out. Quinn's car was parked a hundred yards down the road. The burner phone rang and she answered it.

"You snore," he told her.

"Shut up. Why are you still here?"

"Leaving now," he told her. "Hope you don't mind that I used your toothbrush."

Before she could start berating him, he spoke again. "Relax. I'm kidding. I carry my own."

"Either a highly trained assassin or a boy scout – you come prepared."

"Try not to do anything stupid today," he told her and hung up smiling when he heard her sounds of outrage over the phone.

Sometimes he felt as though the blackness was staining his soul, weighing down upon him like a heavy stone … Then there were mornings like this when it was possible to believe that good things could still happen. 

****

end


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